Her Funeral
by Druantis
Summary: Drabble. A Letter to Buffy from Spike, written during the summer that she was dead. Clearly, it was never delivered, one would assume. Really vague sexual references.


-1**The funeral**

Buffy,

I was dressed in grey for your funeral.

It seemed appropriate because I always wear black. I couldn't just wear what I always wear. That would be… disrespectful? Casual? I don't know. It would be wrong.

Also, I wasn't feeling black. Black is what I feel when I'm sucking the blood of the innocent. Black is what I feel when I'm rampaging across the world with Dru, Angelus and Darla.

Grey is what I feel now.

And its what I see, but that could be all the booze.

Angel was there. He saw me walking towards everyone, and tackled me to the ground.

We wrestled for a bit, until Willow yelled at Angel to get off me.

He was just confused for a few minutes, then he hung his head and sighed.

I walked over to him and put my arm around his shoulder, whispering a truce to him. While we were here, we were on neutral ground. No souls, no old rivalry.

He nodded and wrapped his arm round my waist, and we waited for the others to start.

Harris carried your coffin with Giles. They were crying, and it didn't matter. So were we. Everyone was just standing, tears staining their cheeks, watching the casket that we knew _you _were in get lowered to the ground.

Me and Angel employed our vampire speed and strength, and dug a quick hole. 7 feet deep, that's what its supposed to be right? Or is it 6? Either way, I think we got 5 feet. We wanted you as close as possible.

Then went the coffin lowering, and Red conjured a tombstone. After some lengthy bickering she engraved the epitaph in. "Buffy Summers, 1981-2001, beloved sister, devoted friend, she saved the world… a lot."

Course that was Harris's line. Always crack a joke. Always.

Then me and Peaches covered you up. The last patch of earth before your coffin was obscured from view, neither of us could do. We just kept burying around it, higher and higher, until a patch of earth slipped and filled it for us.

Before I get on to the rest of the night, I should just say, I love you.

And I hate you. With a passion. I hate you for not loving me, I hate you for the way you always hurt me physically, and emotionally, every chance you got. I swear, if there was another way of hurting someone, you'd be the one to discover it. You'd chain me up and experiment on me until you found it if it took your fancy.

I hate you for dying.

Its inconsiderate.

I'm trying to refrain from writing anything poetic, coz that's just poncy, and I don't think you get poetry anyway, so there isn't much point.

After your funeral, we went back to Rupes. Everyone got pretty shit-faced and depressed.

Your mates love you heaps. And Angel.

So anyway, we all drank way too much, ended up putting on country music thanks to Harris, and playing monopoly for 6 hours, until Anya and Xander bankrupted everyone.

We played in pairs for some reason, which just resulted in me and Angel fighting over property. In the end, he had a stake to my chest, and only didn't dust me when a strangely sober Dawn pointed out that we didn't actually own half our properties, because I just kept nicking them.

That's when Anya realised she'd technically won, and I retired home, Angel hot on my heels.

I guess when you've known a guy for over a century and shared pretty much everything you've ever owned and/or secreted, its only natural he'd crash at my place.

I kinda wish we hadn't ended up shagging on the floor. Seemed right though, the two men who loved you more than Riley, er, I mean, anything, finding solace in each others cold dead embrace.

Since you haven't read any of the other letters I've written this week, I feel like I can tell you again how much I miss you, love you and need you.

And guess what? I'm going to be good. Coz I can't help but imagine, what if one day in the future, you appear before me, shining and dressed in white, fresh from heaven, and I'm sucking the blood of some backstreet babe.

But, you know, if you do decide to come back from wherever you are one day, it'd be more than more than welcome.

Love you forever,

William.


End file.
